Humidity
by Bag Of Badgers
Summary: Italy wakes Germany up in the wee hours of the morning, and things not safe for the children ensue.


The humidity isn't what wakes Ludwig, but it makes it lots easier, seeping into every corner of the old, old house in Venice and pressing heavy on Ludwig and Feliciano in their bed, making them stick together in sleep. What does wake Ludwig is Feliciano tapping him on the shoulder.

"Feli, it's…" Ludwig turns just enough to check the alarm clock on the bedside table. "…Five in the morning."

"I know," Feliciano mumbles, voice low and quiet.

"Wha're you—" Feliciano cuts off Ludwig's question and quite a few of his thoughts by rolling on top of him, muttering in nonsense Italian against his throat. He wriggles a little before settling down, breath blowing too warm across Ludwig's Adam's apple, and then smiles to himself and wriggles a little more and he knows _exactly_ what he's doing there is no way he doesn't why now it's too early-

Ludwig tries again. "Feli. What are you doing."

Feliciano lifts his head up, scratch of stubble along the side of Ludwig's neck, and says "Go with it?" in that same voice that Ludwig will never ever admit is waking up certain… areas of himself that were already awake from the whole Feliciano-rolling-on-him-_why in hell did I let him sleep naked_thing. And then he shifts up a little more (oh goddammit) and kisses Ludwig hard, oddly so for Feliciano at five AM and why the hell did Ludwig just think hard- oh God _damn_ it.

Fine.

He kisses back, far too warm too early in the morning, and Feliciano's hands are on his stomach and lower, tugging down his boxers and-

Thoughts stop for a little while, and when they start back up, somehow Ludwig's hands have made their way down to Feliciano's backside- _how did that happen?_- but then he just stops questioning because Feliciano's tongue is great at making Ludwig's thoughts freeze in their tracks and derail. And that is nothing, _nothing_ compared to what the first small jerk of Feliciano's hips does to his thoughts, and if he's going to go with the train comparison this would be vaguely analogous to a train spontaneously not only being derailed, but being dragged through the city to another set of tracks going the exact opposite direction and then Feliciano does it _again_ and Ludwig should really stop thinking about trains right now because distracting himself is not going to work, he knows very very well how incredibly insistent Feliciano gets in matters like this.

Speaking of. Ludwig's really not entirely sure what to do with this. Well. He gets the concept, but- how? Is there something specific he's supposed to do, a particular way he's supposed to move his hips, anything very important that he's missing? _Is there a manual for this? _Maybe it's the tiredness speaking, but he really isn't sure where he's supposed to go with this, with Feliciano on top of him making very insistent motions with his hips-

Feliciano pulls back from the kiss and smiles at Ludwig in that sort of dopey way that seems incredibly out of sync with what he's just been doing, eyes half-lidded, and says "Good start" in what would be a bright voice if he were properly awake. "Uh, hang on just a moment—"

And then Feliciano rolls them over, a tangle of limbs and surprise, and goes "oof!" when Ludwig can't quite catch himself in time and lands heavily on Feliciano's ribcage.

"Sorry."

"'S okay." Feliciano smiles at him again, this time a little smaller and a lot more knowing. "Also it's your turn now."

Ludwig is halfway through trying to roll them over again when Feliciano stops him with a hand on his shoulder. "No no no not that. I meant this," and then he does that _thing_ with his hips again and Feliciano wants him to do that? But before he can properly think through everything that would entail, there are hands on his backside trying to pull him forward and Ludwig catches on very quickly and experimentally shifts forward.

"_O_kay that's good." Feliciano smiles at him and wriggles again, licking his lips a little _oh God_. Again he twists himself upward a little, hands on Ludwig's shoulders and eyes heavy-lidded. "Again?"

Ludwig acquiesces so quickly it would almost be embarrassing, were it not 5 AM and were Feliciano not thrusting up faintly but definitely, and it is still far too early for this and Ludwig's head still feels a little like it's been lined with cotton wool and Feliciano's voice is still low and quiet and tired with the little earthy tone it gains in these situations, and Ludwig just gives in.

Feliciano's hands are still on Ludwig's shoulders, and he keeps their pace steady, or something like it, and begins murmuring instructions into Ludwig's neck between gasps and nips, _more_s and _like that_s and Ludwig obeys to the best of his ability.

It's so, so warm inside the room, and getting warmer, and the sheets twist around their waists as they continue moving, slick against each other and Ludwig's hair falling messy into his eyes and Feliciano's spread out dark across the pillows and both flushed and sweating. Feliciano suddenly shudders, eyelids fluttering (oh God, his eyelashes should be illegal) and breathes out "God, yes, like _that_," and it's nearly all Ludwig can do not to come then and there.

He keeps talking after that, breathily, _harder_s and _slower_s and what could possibly be a few _fuck me_s thrown in all together, mixed with fast Italian that Ludwig can't catch, but _ti amo_ seems to be in there a lot. One of his hands comes up to hold in Ludwig's hair, the other straying down his back, and Feliciano runs his lips all over every inch of Ludwig he can reach- he does that a lot, Ludwig thinks (insofar as he can right now), and it's just a bit odd, since he's pretty sure his collarbones don't taste that good.

And it all shifts together into gasps of warm, still air and shuddering "mn-oh"s and Ludwig not even really realizing he's bitten Feliciano's neck until he tastes the sweat-salty skin and feels how Feliciano's arms come up to wrap around his back and how he scratches at Ludwig's shoulder blades, and the stick and slide of their skin and Feliciano mumbling dirty-sweet things into Ludwig's shoulder and tossing his head back against the pillows, dark-bright eyes seeming to cut right through the haze in Ludwig's head as he arches up, and then it all just becomes this tangle of limbs and poorly-timed thrusts and poorly-aimed kisses and Ludwig just decides to stop even trying to keep track.

Feliciano kisses him, messily, curly hair sticking to his forehead, and he's a good kisser, a_ really_good kisser (where did he learn that, anyway), and the heat that's been building beneath Ludwig's abdomen gives and spills out into the hot, thick air of the bedroom, and through all this he can still see Feliciano's small, white smile.

Gasping for breath, Feliciano comes as well, sticky on their stomachs, and relaxes boneless on the bed. He blinks slowly up at Ludwig, still smiling, and wraps his arms around him, pulling them down to rest side by side.

"That was good," he yawns, sounding completely exhausted. "You like it?"

Ludwig opens his mouth, closes it, and nods, curling against Feliciano, both damp and sticky and in need of cleaning but neither willing nor able to get out of their bed. He really can't think of what to say, the cotton-wool feeling in his head has intensified and coupled with a spreading warmth in his chest and his limbs feel too heavy to move.

Feliciano presses a kiss to his nose, and another to his mouth, mumbling something about _ti ho amato fin dal decimo secolo_, and there's something Ludwig wants to say in response but it founders beneath the warm air and Feliciano's warm skin.

Instead, he pulls Feliciano closer and closes his eyes, vowing that in just a few minutes he'll get up and wipe them off and open a window, but what happens is Feliciano kisses him again and trails his fingers through Ludwig's hair and knots their legs, and he hears and returns the silent _I love you_, and sleeps.

(They wake up at eight and Ludwig immediately shepherds them both into the bath and opens up a window when they're done, but he glances up halfway through breakfast and says _seit dem zehnten Jahrhundert?_ and Feliciano nearly lunges across the small table to kiss him.)

* * *

ti ho amato fin dal decimo secolo: i've loved you since the tenth century; seit dem zehnten Jahrhundert: since the tenth century (i hope, this was mostly google translate with aiding french knowledge)


End file.
